


oityw Drabble #2

by writerzaya



Category: Durarara!!, Orihara Izaya to Yuuyake wo
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:37:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4443707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerzaya/pseuds/writerzaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no use crying over spilt milk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oityw Drabble #2

There's no use crying over spilt milk. 

Izaya swore as he knocked over the glass from the counter, reaching to try and mop up the mess and stay planted in the chair. He needed to have the kitchen redone. He knew he did but it had been a point of pride to try and manage as he had been for the last couple of months. He'd known from the first day the apartment needed work to make it liveable for him. Doorways widened a little, the floor reinforced and made skid proof, lights made automatic or easier to reach. He'd had the bathroom redone. He could maneuver it easily after the amount of rehab he'd had to go through in order to consider himself independent after everything. Independent wasn't this. 

He couldn't mop up the glass nor the liquid from here. His kitchen was organized in such a way that wheeling backwards was almost guaranteed to get him stuck, but the mop was behind him and there was broken glass in front which he didn't want to roll over and spread all over the kitchen. He tried to reach behind him but it was just beyond the tips of his finger tips. He wouldn't call someone just for this. No he'd just.. Reach more with the cloth. He undid the seatbelt to maximize available space. This would be fine if he had the use of his legs, but of course if that were the case he wouldn't need the chair in the first place. He leaned just a bit more and brushed the floor with the rag, sighing with a bit of relief. He noticed heavily that it wasn't doing much and attempted to lean forward just a little more, just to pressure soak the mess. 

He tumbled out of the chair. Izaya wasn't so much in pain as he was in shock, and he'd missed the shards just barely but.. It was so. Undignified. The chair had remained upright and so he did as he'd learned in rehab, facing it and attempting to pull himself back into it, his pride thoroughly damaged. He hadn't locked the brakes in place and so it rolled slightly. His chin hit the ground as the support left him and he bit his tongue, blood gushing to mix with spit. He cried. He wasn't sure what else to do because the chair had gotten stuck, he was soaked with milk, and his phone was on the counter, which had ironically knocked the glass over in the first place. 

If only he hadn't wanted a glass of milk. He wasn't usually one for milk but since becoming wheelchair bound, he'd decided maybe strengthening his bones would be worth it. He hated the taste and hated the association. Milk was what Shizu-chan liked. Shizu-chan, who'd made him like this in the first place, the damned monster and his damn nonhuman strength which had made just the tiniest of spinal injuries which he might never recover from. Why had he ever wanted to drink milk? He punched the floor with a soundless, furious sob. 

He wasn't loud, or so he thought, but someone knocked on the door, which he thankfully hadn't gotten around to locking just yet. When they asked if he was okay he froze, unsure whether to answer. Whether he wanted the help or whether the embarrassment would be too much. "Fell." He said simply. The floor had been alerted to his condition but he mostly kept to himself and didn't bother anyone. The neighbour found his way to the kitchen and helped lift Izaya with little difficulty back into the chair, and loosened the chair from its wedged in position. All he could do was nod his appreciation.


End file.
